


Are You Scared of the Past? (Do You Think That You Might Re-Crash?)

by Huntress8611



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Clint Barton, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Fear of doctors, Gen, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION IS IMPORTANT GUYS, Hugs, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Medical, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Has PTSD, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov gets a hug, Nightmares, OOC, Phobias, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers (2012), Protective Clint Barton, Protective Phil Coulson, Red Room (Marvel), S.H.I.E.L.D., Strike Team Delta, Supernatural Fear Inducer, Team as Family, Triggers, Whump, i tried my best but it's not perfect, natasha is hard to write, seriously, talking about your issues like MATURE ADULTS, unironic discussion of triggers, unironic use of the word trigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress8611/pseuds/Huntress8611
Summary: “You alright, Nat?” he asked.She nodded, but he could see that her pupils were blown with fear and her eyes were darting back and forth, her form trembling almost imperceptibly.“Okay,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the extraction point where Phil was waiting in the quinjet to pick them up.





	Are You Scared of the Past? (Do You Think That You Might Re-Crash?)

**Author's Note:**

> Background Information: Strike Team Delta was assigned a mission to assassinate an evil psychic. Before Clint managed to shoot him, he stabbed Natasha and did something to her brain that made her scared of everything, though it only really showed with things she was really afraid of already, due to her being so good at hiding her emotions.
> 
> The title of this work is from the song Fear by Stop Making Friends.
> 
> This work fills the square "Supernatural Fear Inducer" on my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card.
> 
> I swear I did my best to keep this as in-character as I could, so hopefully I didn't completely fail at that.

Clint jumped down from the rafters, landing in front of Natasha and startling her, making her jump.

“You alright, Nat?” he asked.

She nodded, but he could see that her pupils were blown with fear and her eyes were darting back and forth, her form trembling almost imperceptibly.

“Okay,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the extraction point where Phil was waiting in the quinjet to pick them up.

Once Phil had taken off and Clint had gotten Natasha to sit down, he knelt down in front of her and started to check her for injuries.

“Shit, Nat! How’d I miss that?” Clint asked, looking at a large cut on her side.

Natasha shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Oh well. Either way, that’s gonna need to be looked at. Hey Phil!” he shouted, turning towards the pilot's seat. “Alert medical, okay?”

“Got it, Clint!” he heard Phil shout in reply.

He turned back to Natasha, but she had stood up and moved to press herself against the wall furthest away from him.

_ “Shit,” _ he whispered to himself, realizing he’d just mentioned medical in front of Natasha while she was under the influence of some kind of fear inducer.

He walked over to Natasha, stopping a few feet away.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, Nat. C’mere,” he said holding his arms open.

After a few seconds, Natasha walked into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I’ve gotcha. You aren’t there, I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe with Phil and I, I promise,” he said softly, rubbing her back and swaying back and forth slightly.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s  _ wrong _ with me,” she said, fear audible in her voice.

“It’s not your fault, the psychic did something, he made you afraid. He thought it’d make you easier to fight, remember?” Clint said softly.

“Oh, okay,” she said, uncharacteristically quiet.

“C’mon, Nat. Let’s sit back down, okay?”

He led her over to the seats, sitting next to her. He kept his arms around her and pulled her against his side.

Natasha began to tense when they landed, staring wide-eyed at where the quinjet opened.

“Deep breaths, Nat,” Clint reminded, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

When an agent pushed a gurney into the quinjet, she froze completely for a moment before burrowing further into Clint’s side.

Clint felt horrible for having to make her feel unsafe, but he let go of her and stood up.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, managing to pick up Natasha. “I’ve gotcha, Nat. You’re alright.”

He set her on the gurney and sat down behind her, hooking his legs over her own and wrapping his arms around her arms and chest, hoping to both keep her still and comfort her.

The agent looked at Coulson in confusion, wisely saying nothing to Natasha.

“Magic,” Coulson said like it explained everything.

The other agent looked at him for a moment before deciding that he valued his life more than he valued having answers, so he started pushing the gurney towards S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical facility.

Phil walked next to the gurney, setting a hand on Clint’s shoulder in support, knowing it was best to let Clint help Natasha. Clint rubbed a hand up and down Natasha’s arm and whispered reassurances in her ear, ensuring that he was too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Once they were in a room, the agent moved to touch Natasha to move her to the hospital bed, but was luckily stopped by Phil. At one look from Coulson, the man silently moved to the corner of the room.

Clint unhooked his legs, keeping his arms wrapped around her. Phil moved to steady Clint as he carefully slid off the gurney. Phil gently nudged Natasha’s legs, encouraging her to slide off the gurney as well. Clint walked her the few feet to the bed and carefully managed to get up onto it without falling or letting go of Natasha. Phil helped Clint get Natasha up onto the bed, carefully turning them both so that their legs were on the bed, leaving Clint easily able to get back into the same position he’d been in on the gurney.

While he did that, Phil found the bed controls and increased the incline so that Clint had something to lean back against. The noise the bed made startled Natasha, leading to Phil gently setting a hand on the shoulder Clint’s head wasn’t resting on.

“You’re alright, Nat. I promise,” Phil said softly before removing his hand and leaving the room to fetch a doctor, grabbing the other agent and pulling him out of the room as well.

“God, I hate this,” Natasha whispered.

“I know. I know you’re scared and I know you hate that you’re scared, but it’s okay,” Clint said reassuringly.

“Damnit Clint, I’m always scared and you know it! I always hate that I’m scared! What I hate right  _ now _ is that all my walls are gone! I can’t put up a mask or hide the fear and I fucking hate it!” she said angrily, but not loudly enough to be heard through the walls.

Clint went silent for a moment, thinking of what to say. Just as he opened his mouth, Natasha spoke up.

“Sorry, this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t’ve yelled.”

“No, it’s alright. I understand better now. You never show emotion around people other than Phil and I, Nat. Of course you hate being forced to show what you’re feeling, especially fear, and in medical of all places.”

“Thanks for understanding, Clint,” she said, leaning back into his hold.

Just after she’d spoken, Coulson walked in, followed by a doctor that Natasha didn’t recognize, which made her nervous. Clint, of course, noticed and tightened his grip comfortingly.

The doctor whispered to Coulson, “You’re sure we shouldn’t restrain her for this? She’s been psychically influenced, she could lash out.”

Natasha, having amazing hearing, began to panic before she could hear Coulson’s response of, “No, you can’t. Clint’s got her, it’s fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay Nat,” Clint said soothingly. “No restraints, I promise. Phil’s taking care of it. No restraints, just me holding you, okay?”

She stops trying to pull away, instead sagging back into Clint’s hold once again.

“There ya go, you’re safe, I’ve gotcha. I won't let anything bad happen to you.”

She turned into him as much as she could without blocking the doctor’s access to her stomach wound, tucking her head under Clint’s chin. He shifted his hold on her so that he was still holding her arms in place, but also left a hand free for him to run through her hair.

When the doctor walked up to the side of the bed, Clint glared at her, daring her to say anything to Natasha. The doctor wisely kept her mouth shut, quickly getting to work on cutting Natasha’s uniform away from the wound. Phil moved to stand by the other side of the bed and rested a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. She bent her arm at the elbow to grab his hand and he quickly shifted to take her hand with his free hand.

“Right here, Nat,” Phil said gently, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. “You’re alright.”

Clint kept running his hand through her hair as the doctor began to clean out her wound. She tensed, and Clint tightened his arm around her chest.

“I’ve got you. You aren’t there, you’re at S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’re safe, I promise. You aren’t there, Nat. You’re okay,” he murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. “I’ve gotcha.”

Clint kept at it, reminding Natasha that she wasn’t in the Red Room, that she was in S.H.I.E.L.D, that she was  _ safe. _ Phil stayed quiet, a reassuring presence to help keep Natasha grounded. Whenever she seemed to become more distressed, he would squeeze her hand and shoulder, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

The doctor finished quickly and, before she could address Natasha, Coulson led her outside of the room to talk her into letting him take her back to her and Clint’s joint quarters. Luckily the doctor knew better than to argue with Coulson, and quickly agreed to release her on the condition that he and Clint would make sure that she didn’t reinjure herself.

In the room, Clint was talking to Natasha. “We’re done, Phil’s talking to the doctor. We’ll get to leave soon,” he said.

“Thank you, Clint,” she said.

Clint let go of her and sat them both up straight before crawling off the bed and grabbing a shirt out of one of the many drawers in the room. He quickly made his way back to Natasha and helped her into it, making sure that she didn’t pull or rip her stitches. She turned so that her legs were dangling off the edge of the bed and Clint sat next to her, pulling her against his side while they waited for Phil to return and tell them that they could leave.

Natasha jumped up best she could when Phil walked in, ready to get out of medical. Clint quickly followed, putting one of her arms over his shoulder, letting her lean on him as they Phil walked with them to Clint and Natasha's shared quarters.

“Feeling any better, Nat?” Clint asked as Phil got the door open.

“A little,” she responded while he led her over to their couch, sitting and pulling her down against his side. “I think it’s probably just because we’re out of medical, though.”

“You’re still feeling better, though, and that’s the important thing,” Phil pointed out, taking a seat in the armchair near the couch.

“I guess,” she mumbled, leaning against Clint.

“I know medical is a trigger for you, Nat. You think you’re going to be okay? Usually you have some kind of mental block thing you do, but from what I can tell, the psychic tripped that away,” Phil said.

“God, Phil, you know I hate talking about this shit.”

“Yeah, and you also know that it’s this or a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist, so pick your poison.”

Natasha sighed and rubbed her face. “I just- I have my coping mechanisms, Phil. You know that. The issue is that one of my main coping mechanisms was suddenly taken away. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but what are the consequences of that, Nat? You said it yourself, your walls are down. How is that going to affect you? Nightmares, flashbacks, those kinds of things, are they going to worsen? Do you need to take a break from missions? We’re just trying to figure out how to help, Nat,” Clint explained, tightening his hold on her.

“I know, but right now I just want to go to sleep,” she said quietly.

“Alright. You think you’ll be alright with just Clint here tonight, Natasha?” Phil asked softly, wanting her to have the choice.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. Thanks, Phil.”

“Goodnight, you two. Sleep well,” Phil said, standing up and leaving for his own quarters.

“Night, Phil,” they both responded.

“We should probably go to sleep, nat. Today was a bit crazy,” Clint said.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

She ducked out from under his arm, quickly walking to her room and shutting the door behind her before crawling into her bed and quickly falling asleep.

“Nat. Nat, wake up! C’mon, it’s Clint, wake up, you’re safe,” Clint said.

She bolted upright, the knife that she kept under her pillow in hand.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you don’t need that, I promise,” he reassured, his hands in the air.

“Clint?” she asked, her eyes meeting his.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Natasha put the knife back under her pillow and Clint slowly lowered his hands before sitting next to her on the bed.

“What- Why am I so panicky, Clint? Why can’t I push this  _ down?” _

“Hey, it’s alright, just keep breathing,” he soothed wrapping his arms around her. “First, we’ve talked about this Nat, that’s a horrible coping mechanism. Second, there was a psychic yesterday, remember? Made you scared. You had to deal with a lot of PTSD triggers without your mental walls.”

"God, I just hate feeling so weak. I shouldn't  _ be _ like this."

"Hey, don't think like that. Remember that deal you, Phil, and I made?" Clint asked sternly.

"Yeah," she sighed. "We don't need to be afraid of showing weakness around each other. We need to trust each other and it's dangerous for your team to not know your weaknesses."

“Exactly,” Cllint said. “You’ve done this for me a hundred times before, so please just let me help you?”

“Alright,” she conceded.

Clint shoved his legs under the blankets and laid down, pulling her down next to him. He turned onto his side and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She turned into him and tucked her head under his chin.

“Thanks, Clint,” she murmured.

“Anytime, Nat,” he responded, burying his face in her hair. “Anytime.”


End file.
